


Crossover

by azriona



Series: Advent Calendar Drabbles 2014 [24]
Category: Doctor Who, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Advent Calendar Drabble, Crack, Crossover, Gen, Story: The Adventure of the Red-Headed League, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:11:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2840945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azriona/pseuds/azriona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donna has been investigating the odd while looking for the Doctor, so of course she notices the announcement in the paper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossover

**Author's Note:**

> The twenty-fourth installment of the Advent Calendar Drabbles. This fic is titled with the prompt, which was given to me anonymously. My husband had the idea of putting Sherlock Holmes, Hermione Granger, and the Doctor on Final Jeopardy (and even came up with a really awesome answer for it) but alas, I wrote this instead.

It was the notice that caught Donna’s attention.

 

_The Red-Headed League_

_Is taking new Membership_

_Only Red-Headed Individuals Need Apply_

 

And then a telephone number.  Donna did as much research as she could before calling the number – she wasn’t _completely_ stupid of course – but turned up nothing, and in the end called it anyway and listened to a recorded message giving her an overly effusive greeting and then an address in St Johns Wood.

 

The address turned out to be one of the fancy houses just off Abbey Road.  The door was open; Donna squared her shoulders and went in, and was immediately barraged with the sound of…typing.

 

“Ah, good,” said a cool, slightly high voice in a terribly amused manner.  “You’ll have typing skills.  Please do sit down.”

 

Donna stared at the speaker: posh, no doubt, wearing a neat dark grey suit and a thin smile.  The gentleman who was undoubtedly a member of the League sat at the front of the enormous room, spinning his umbrella like a top.

 

“Your hair _might_ have been ginger once,” said Donna, looking at the thinning patch on his head.

 

“Auburn,” the man corrected.  “ _Yours_ might not have come from a bottle, once.”

 

“Oi!  


“But you can type,” continued the man, “unlike _that_ lot.”

 

“Oi!” chorused one or two of “that lot”, but the typing – or rather, the crashing sound of a few hundred ginger-haired individuals banging away on a few hundred typewriters in a room with absolutely no sound cushioning – the typing continued.

 

Donna looked – and sure enough, the room was filled with gingers.  Tall gingers, short gingers, young gingers, old gingers.  Gingers wearing jumpers and gingers wearing dresses and a group of gingers who were inexplicably dressed in bathrobes.  Rather _nice_ bathrobes, and they had rather long toothbrushes in their hands that a few of them were tapping against the typewriters as if expecting the machines to turn themselves into toads, but still.  Two of them looked like twins; they were giving her insulted looks, were probably those who’d objected to being lumped in with the rest, despite being the best examples of them.

 

“Hoping for Hamlet?” Donna asked dryly, turning back to the almost-ginger at the front of the room.

 

“Oh, we produced Hamlet _eons_ ago,” said the man cheerfully.  “No, really, we were hoping for the Doctor, actually.  Instead we have _you_ – I think that’s rather enough to be getting on with, don’t you?”

 

But before Donna could back away, the man lifted his umbrella and tapped her on the head with it—

 

 

 

 

—Just as Donna woke up, having banged her head on her headboard.

 

“Ow,” said Donna, rubbing her head ruefully.  The search for the Doctor was clearly getting to her, if she was starting to dream about ridiculous things like _Red-headed Leagues_ and the gentlemen who ran them. “That’s the last time I have cucumbers before bed.”

 


End file.
